Title: In Which Castiel Joins The Glee Club (Or The Mystery Of Blue-Eyes' Orientation)
Author: HigherMagic
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Kurt/Blaine
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~17,000

Spoilers: Um…Various spoilers throughout Glee but I kind of mess up the storyline. Kurt's at Dalton with Blaine and Lauren and Sam are in Glee. Set sometime around 'Comeback' and, if you had to pick a point in Supernatural, I'd say a happier ending for Season 5, with Sam resurrected and perfectly fine.

Summary:Castiel joins the Glee Club, Rachel and Kurt fight over which way he swings, and Dean discovers he has a thing for teacher/student (or janitor/student) scenarios. And it turns out Castiel's really good at being a teenager. The power of song is amazing, isn't it?

Notes: There's over-sensualizing of songs in here. I don't really have an excuse for it. I can't even. *headdesk* And the songs I've chosen, I've looked at different versions of the lyrics and ultimately gone with what I hear when I listen to them, when supported by the internet lyric sites I've found.

I tried to make it cracky, I tried to make it hot…not sure how well I succeeded.

The songs in here are 'For Your Entertainment' and 'Aftermath' by Adam Lambert, and 'What a Shame' by Shinedown. If you only listen to one of those songs, listen to 'What a Shame'. It's such an amazing, inspiring song and I have hardcore love for the guy's voice. So…yeah :D

Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

It wasn't even meant to happen like that. Seriously – it was a guilty pleasure of Dean's. He'd just happened to total one of his Metallica tapes and really, he'd bought it on a whim. He never listened to it with Sam in the car, and he always kept it hidden amidst his dirty magazines and underwear so that Sam would never find it.

He just couldn't help himself sometimes.

Adam Lambert had a fucking amazing voice.

Sure, the music itself might not really be his style – he much preferred the soft whine of a guitar or the hard beat of a drum, but even the techno garbage seemed negligible with that voice belting out over it, growling low or making Dean soar on the high notes. It was honestly unfair, but there you have it.

But that is a side-note, and side-notes are not important right now. It's just worth remembering.

"Got somethin'?" Dean asked, entering the motel room with take-out bags from the diner down the road that had promised the best burgers in the Tri-state area, and while Dean was dubious, he was also a shameless whore for burgers so he'd figured why not. They were in a lull, but it was one of those quiet kinds of lulls – you know, the ones where something awful of epically gigantic proportions wasn't going on so they could afford to maybe knock out one of the low-level hunts.

"Yeah," Sam said, straightening up and stretching his arms over his head, before he pushed a newspaper towards Dean, clearing the rest of the table so that Dean had a place to put the food. Rabbit food and water for Sam, coffee and burger for Dean. Usual stuff. "Possible haunting in a High School – kids sighting some strange presence, cold snaps and, get this, they've been finding thick black goo all around the place. I'm thinking some seriously pissed off spirit."

"You ever notice how all the spirits we chase are 'seriously pissed off'?" Dean muttered, taking a big bite out of his double-bacon cheeseburger heart-attack-on-a-bun and giving a little noise of appreciation. "I mean, whatever happened to just being mildly annoyed?"

"They don't grab our attention when they're mildly annoyed," Sam replied with a mix of amusement towards Dean's remark and disgust, watching his brother eat. His brother was not the most graceful of eaters and it was evident in a burger that had more sauce than meat. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and absently poked at his salad. "But it's the closest thing so I figured why not?"

Dean shrugged – he didn't really care either way, but he was getting serious cabin fever and he just wanted to drive somewhere and hunt something. That feeling was getting stronger the longer they spent here – the owners of the diner started addressing him by name. That was when it was time to move on. "Sure," he said, wiping the grease away from his mouth with the back of his hand. "We'll head there after lunch."

Another thing worth mentioning is that Castiel had firmly situated himself into the Winchester life. It wasn't gradual, nor was it expected, but one day he appeared in the car a split second before Sam and Dean entered it, used his Angel mojo to turn Zeppelin up to full blast, did that weird half-smile thing at Dean, and then sat back for the ride. Dean had just grinned at Sam and they'd been on their way.

This final cementing had happened four days later, when he and Dean slept together for the first time. That was seven months ago, and thank God Castiel could mojo them into any empty motel room without paying because Sam was not going to sleep in the same room. Or even the room next door.

They were fucking loud, and glass had an embarrassing inclination to shatter when they were going at it.

Castiel had endeavored to learn the subtleties of human mannerisms, and to an extent he had succeeded. There were still cultural references he didn't get, and he still spoke like a seventeenth century dictionary, and he stared (though mostly just at Dean), but he could actually blend in now. He still wore the business suit and tended to sit ramrod straight unless someone reminded him that, no, he didn't actually have a stick up his ass, and he could actually pull off a pretty damn adorable smile. All in all, the Angel had found a nice steady line between Angel and human and had set up camp there very comfortably.

This is important to remember because it makes Dean's later surprise all the funnier.

Sure enough, McKinley High was haunted. Dean and Sam applied for jobs as janitors there that, despite the recent budget cuts that had had to be made, they'd been accepted for. They'd set up shop in one of the few motels in the area and had buckled down for a good old-fashioned hunt.

The problem with being a janitor, though, is that despite the fact that they were practically invisible and could listen in on conversations and things like that, that's pretty much all they could do. They weren't Feds, so they couldn't actually ask questions and interview; they could just watch, and wait, and listen.

Their first encounter happened after school – all the students and most of the teachers had left and Sam and Dean were scouring the school with their EMF meters, and everything had been…kind of humdrum – nothing but background electromagnetic frequencies. Until Dean had reached the auditorium.

The meter had spiked, giving out a high-pitched whine, and Dean frowned, looking through the door. None of the house lights were on – there was a single spotlight on the stage. Someone was singing. It was one of the tiny brunettes that Dean had seen wandering around the school – she walked like a power-walker, like everything was a step away from being a run and she spoke like a chipmunk and seemed to be everywhere all the time. It was a little unnerving.

But man could the girl sing.

She was singing something Dean didn't recognize, but it clearly had a lot of high notes that she felt she had to belt out from the top of her lungs. For a second, her backing track fizzed out and became static.

The ghost was here.

She abruptly stopped singing, on stage, and looked around her. There was fear and annoyance on her face. "Hello?" she asked. "Is anyone there?" Her voice shook, and Dean pressed his lips together, creeping further forward, trying to get a look at the ghost if it was here.

His breath misted in front of him, and he turned around. There! There it was, sitting in the third row of seats from the back. Dean froze, bracing himself, and the girl on stage huffed, muttering something about stupid electronics, and how everything was better live nowadays anyway, and honestly, what kind of school didn't pay for a proper audio system these days, and what was the world coming to, and –

The ghost's eyes followed her, and then it disappeared. The EMF meter went back to normal levels. Dean frowned, lifting it over his head, but it remained silent and static. He tapped it against his hand, checking the battery. No change.

"A disappearing ghost," he murmured. "Well, I'll be damned."

He returned to Sam, who was inside the Gym, walking up and down the bleachers. "Got anythin'?" he asked, approaching his brother. Sam frowned, shaking his head.

"Maybe," he said, pursing his lips as he bent down, sticking his hand between two bleachers. His fingers came back coated in a thick black fluid. "Ectoplasm?" he asked, then sniffed at it and blanched. "No. Definitely not."

"What is it?" Dean asked curiously.

"No idea, but it smells like licorice."

Dean cocked his head to one side. "What?" he asked. The stuff was cold and felt like melted slushie. He rolled his eyes. "Okay, so maybe not a pissed off spirit. For once. But there's definitely something here."

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked, wiping the gunk off on his uniform. Dean copied him, wiping his fingers on Sam's sleeve, earning a bitch face. "What'd you see?"

"Well, there was this chick singing in the auditorium and there seemed to be this…thing, watching her." Dean's expression twisted in discomfort. "It looked like a ghost and the air got cold, but until it got there, there were no residual EMF readings – it was there, then it was gone. Just like that."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Just…gone?"

"I'm tellin' you, man. And it didn't attack me – wasn't even paying attention to me. Was just sitting there, watching." Dean shook his head – the day he met a non-aggressive ghost was the day…well, no, he'd pretty much done everything else.

He sighed. "So…ideas?"

"Dunno," Sam replied, shaking his head. "Maybe we need to talk to that girl. Maybe she knows something?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, sounds like a plan."

The girl's name was Rachel Berry. She was a student with a 3.7 GPA, apparently had the personality of a squirrel that hadn't prepared for winter, and she belonged to a few clubs – most notably, the Glee Club. Apparently she was the star. When she wasn't there, she was thinking about being there. Or in class. Or singing into her hairbrush at home.

After school every day she was at that damned Glee Club, and Sam had tried hovering around there until it ended and approaching her, but above all that she had seemed to be very attached to the Gigantor-impersonator named Finn, and wouldn't leave his side for a second afterwards. He couldn't get to her that way. Besides, she was tiny, and Sam had the uncomfortable feeling that, even on the other side of the door, he would accidentally step on her and crush her.

"This sucks," Dean muttered, rubbing his hands through his hair after another fruitless attempt to talk to her. "We can't get to her, or any of her friends – that teacher guy seems invisible unless he's teaching…"

"What we really need," Sam said, "is someone on the inside. You know, among the kids. I bet they'd talk about anything in that circle."

Dean nodded, pressing his lips together. "Yeah, but I don't know anyone that age. And they'd need to, you know, actually sing and stuff."

A sound of feathers. "I believe I can be of assistance."

The brothers straightened up and turned around, seeing Castiel smiling over at them. Immediately the Angel approached them and took his own seat at the table – there were always three there now, just in case. Dean frowned at him.

"You know someone who could do this for us?" he asked curiously.

Castiel cocked his head to one side, looking over at the Hunter. "Yes. Me," he said.

Dean snorted. "Dude, your vessel's even older than us."

"Yeah, this is a high school Glee club," Sam added, sounding unconvinced.

Castiel shrugged. "A simple matter of changing my vessel's appearance is not beyond my abilities. And, while I am a warrior first, Seraphim also sing praises to the Father – all of my brethren have beautiful voices. And despite the fact that I am no longer, technically, a Seraph, I am confident that I would be able to get by in this club, enough to complete the task." His brow furrowed a little. "I have been observing the school, and there is something amiss there, and I would like to help, however I can. I'm sure I can."

And he did seem very sure of himself. Dean shrugged. "Worth a shot," he muttered.

Dean was not prepared for a teenaged Castiel.

He hadn't turned back time so he was Jimmy at seventeen. He had just literally made himself younger. There were no wrinkles or smile lines on his face; his jaw was smooth from stubble, his hair thicker and slightly longer, falling in front of his eyes. It looked even wilder and more out of control than usual – it looked like someone had just had their wicked way with him. His eyes seemed even wider and brighter and bluer than usual. His lips were less dry, full and a light pink. He'd made himself a little thinner, or maybe it was the costume change.

Yes, it had to be that.

Again, Dean was unprepared for…this.

Castiel had changed out of the suit. It wasn't for teenagers, he'd decided, and he wanted to blend in. He had literally looked through a few magazines and some television shows, as well as observing the kids themselves, and had gone for something simple, but flattering – not that he cared, but he was a teenager which meant he had to care a little. He wore black jeans that were just a shade away from being tight, black Converses, and a light blue t-shirt that was a little loose as though it had once been tight, but had been washed and pulled around many times so it sagged around his body, but still clung to his arms and across his chest. He finished it off with a thin leather jacket – it was just on the border between feminine and not.

Dean just couldn't equate the previous Castiel with this…well…Twink. Kind of a walking wet dream for everyone who ever had hormones ever. Dean felt like a dirty old man, staring at him like this, but Castiel was beautiful – more than that, though, he was hot, in those tight clothes, and the way he stood, relaxed, his hands dipping into the back pockets of his jeans, his head slightly dipped as though he was shy, not looking at either Dean or Sam.

"Will this suffice for the job?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders a little so the jacket fell more comfortably across his shoulders. Dean swallowed, his mouth dry.

"Yeah, Cas," Sam laughed, smiling. "Yeah, that's really good. You look the part."

Dean swallowed again, and tried to speak. All that came out was an embarrassing whining sound, and though it was too soft for Sam to hear, Castiel turned his head, his wide, guileless blue eyes fixing on Dean's.

His lips quirked up in a knowing smile, one side going up higher than the other. "What do you think, Dean?"

He made that embarrassing sound again. "Looks good, Cas," he said, voice coming out raspy. "But can you sing? Dance? The whole shebang?"

Castiel shrugged. "I think my voice will be sufficient," he said demurely, but in that way people talk when they're just trying to be humble. Dean, more than anything, found himself wanting to hear Castiel sing. More than anything in the world, he wanted to hear this young Castiel screaming. His fingers itched to bury themselves in that thick, messy hair, get those full lips on his own. Through a will he didn't realize he had, he managed to stay seated.

Castiel smiled. "I will let you know if I was successful," he said, straightening up, and then he was gone with a rustle of feathers.

"You are so unsubtle," Sam remarked once Castiel had disappeared. Dean swallowed, and stood up, shaking his head. He needed a cold shower. Or a long road with some Adam Lambert.

He needed to go hear Cas sing.

"I'm going out for a while," he said, and Sam just snorted and shook his head and didn't reply.

Castiel was not good at lying, but he was good at bending the truth. A simple matter of Grace gave him transfer papers from a high school in Boston to McKinley High, giving him the name Castiel Novak, seventeen years old, 3.9 GPA. His mother was deceased and his father was in the Navy Corps, overseas in Europe on a military naval base and he was living in Lima Heights in a small, two-bedroom apartment with his 'roommate', that didn't really exist except when Castiel wished it to.

It was a simple matter of asking a few questions to get the name of the teacher who ran the Glee club. Mr. Schuester. Castiel had forgone the jacket today, keeping it wherever Angels kept things that were not in use, instead just wearing the shirt and jeans. He played the part of the shy new kid, learning from movies and TV shows, and he was surprised by how friendly people were. Especially the females – they all seemed very interested in being his friend. He was surprised and pleasantly warmed by that.

One of the girls introduced herself as Rachel Berry, and Castiel perked up, realizing this was his target. He allowed her to corner him in the hallway.

"The thing is, the Glee Club could always use people to stand up and sing. I mean, you probably won't get any big solos but we still need backup singers and people like that. So, are you interested?" she asked, brown eyes alight, practically vibrating where she stood.

She was a kind soul, if a little abrasive. Castiel smiled, and nodded his head. "I think I would like that," he said slowly, as though he had to think about it when he knew he was going to have to anyway – it was the whole point of this charade. Rachel practically bounced in place, grinning.

"Great!" she replied. "Come to the auditorium at lunch to audition. I'm sure you'll do great!" Castiel watched her go, and smiled to himself, glad that he was working so efficiently. He liked it when things happened quickly.

The bell rang and Castiel quickly whisked himself away to Spanish class. Mr. Schuester taught the class, and though that Rachel girl had already approached him, he thought it appropriate to ask that actual leader of the group as well. It was just good manners.

He arrived at the auditorium early, and cast his eyes over the place. He saw no evidence of supernatural events happening in the place, but if what Dean had said was true, it was possible that he wouldn't. He wandered to the back of the hall, touching the Plexiglas screen that shielded the audio room beyond.

"Are you lost?"

He turned around, seeing another girl, this one not Rachel. He did not know her name. She had long, straight black hair and tanned skin. She was pretty, and wore tight leather pants with an equally tight tube top and leather jacket over that. She had her arms crossed, weight on one booted leg, and a smirk on her face.

He straightened, seeing her, and her eyes tracked hungrily up and down his body. "Well, hello Blue-eyes," she said, her voice immediately changing from confrontational to seductive, a low purr that Castiel knew must work on human males very well. She had the air of an experienced seductress about her – Castiel found himself thinking of the Sirens of the Odyssey, or deadly mermaids. She had the same hungry look.

"No," he replied, swallowing. "My name is Castiel. I'm new here. I'm here to audition for the Glee club at the encouragement of Rachel Berry and Mr. Schuester."

"Oh, nice," she replied, smiling again and resting her weight on her other leg. "So you're the new guy." She strode up to him, holding out her hand with a winning smile. "I'm Santana. And we, Blue-eyes, should be good friends soon, I think."

Castiel smiled, taking her hand lightly. "I look forward to it," he replied. Her eyelashes fluttered and her smile widened, then she turned towards the front of the hall, tugging on his hand so he had to follow.

"Come sit with me, Blue-eyes. Let me pick that brain of yours until the others come in."

"Santana!" That was the teacher's voice, and he approached, and the girl pouted, dropping Castiel's hand. "Glad to know you're already welcoming our soon-to-be newest member." He smiled over at Castiel, clapping him on the back. Castiel was unused to anyone doing that aside from Dean and it caught him by surprise. "We're just gonna wait for the others to show up and then we'll get started, that alright?"

"Yes, Mr. Schuester," Castiel replied solemnly.

"And hey, relax," the teacher replied, smiling and shrugging his shoulders by example. "You'll do great."

Castiel had never sung in a human body before – it wasn't that he didn't think it would go well, because Seraphim, by nature, can sing, but he was a little nervous that, perhaps, he would just end up singing Enochian verses at them. He didn't know any human songs that might attract their attention – Dean only listened to Metallica and Zeppelin and older things, and while Castiel enjoyed that music, he thought he needed something a little more…catchy, to attract his younger audience.

Waiting for the rest of the group to arrive, Castiel let his Grace drift. It went towards Dean, and it always did when he was aimlessly wandering, for he was never truly without aim. He found Dean in his car, driving fast and far away, but Sam was not with him so they couldn't be leaving. Heavy, bass music filled the Impala, and, curious, Castiel drew closer.

Dean wasn't singing along to it, which was weird because he always sang along. Castiel eased his Grace into the car without manifesting, listening.

The music was base and repetitive – it was a rhythm one could get lost in, let one's body just run with the music. It made Castiel want to move, want to belt out along with it. It could use a bit more guitar. The musician's voice was powerful and rough – it spoke of dark clubs, of places where people are never more than an inch apart and everything is done to the rhythm. Dean's eyes were half-closed, his fingers tapping along to the beat, and when the singer sang, Dean mouthed along to the words.

Castiel didn't know what drew Dean to this artist from all the rest, but he seemed to enjoy it. The car smelled faintly of pheromones. When the bridge came, the musician belting out a high note, Dean's fingers tightened on the wheel.

Castiel didn't know the song. It was on repeat – one of the only CDs Dean owned. He memorized it and knew that whatever was good enough for Dean was good enough for him.

"So do you sing? Dance? Play instruments?" Castiel was pulled back to his body by the eager brunette girl, Rachel, leaning over the arm of the neighboring chair and smiling at him. Santana was still on his other side, so he couldn't lean away even though her proximity was making him a little uncomfortable.

He noticed four others had entered the room. Two blonde girls, one of which was sat on the opposite side of Santana, and another who was with a very tall man, almost as tall as Sam, who sat in the row behind. A male in a wheelchair had also entered and was perched on the end of the rows.

"I can do anything that is required of me," he answered honestly, and he didn't think it was untrue – he had a working knowledge of a lot of instruments, knew he could sing, and didn't think any of those things was particularly difficult. "I may need a few dancing lessons," he admitted.

"Oh that's alright, man, I can't dance at all, so you'll do fine," the tall man said, smiling amiably and leaning forward. He offered his hand, which Castiel took and shook. "My name's Finn," he said.

"And that's Quinn," Rachel said, pointing at the blonde girl by Finn's side, "and that's Brittney over there, and then there's Santana, of course, and Artie's over there." She pointed to the male in the wheelchair, and Castiel nodded, committing those names to memory. "Tina, Mike, Puck, Mercedes, Lauren and Sam should be on their way now."

Castiel nodded again. "I can't wait to meet them all," he said, smiling a little, and Rachel preened, and started talking about something to do with Broadway roles and how blue eyes with black hair was a rare combination of genes nowadays outside of Russia but that made sense because of his last name, and some other things that Castiel didn't really pay attention to. His mind was focused on the song – the song that enthralled Dean so much. It made him curious, wondering how a song could move a human being so, especially when it was so out-of-genre for Dean.

When they had all arrived, being introduced one by one in Rachel's eager chatter, Will Schuester took the stage, clapping his hands together and rubbing them, smiling. "Alright, guys, we may have a new recruit today," he announced, and all the students sat up a little straighter, a few giving a little whoop or whistle. Castiel felt the strange urge to sink down in his seat – strange; he didn't think he would feel so shy. He bit his lip, knowing that what he was feeling was ridiculous, and steeled himself.

How twelve teenagers and a teacher who Castiel didn't think could hurt air would intimidate him, when hordes of Hellions didn't, was beyond the Seraph, and it was silly.

"Castiel Novak just transferred here from Boston, and we want to give him a warm Glee welcome, alright guys? Castiel, you wanna come up?" Castiel bit his lip again and nodded demurely, pushing himself to his feet. Will smiled and made room for him, stepping off of the stage.

The stage lights seemed intense and blinding, but he knew an Angel's radiance. The air was warm, but he knew Hellfire. He was not afraid. But his human, teenage body was.

"Hi, my name is Castiel," he announced lamely, but that was how they did it on TV. Thirteen faces smiled at him encouragingly, even the ones who looked like they wanted to eat him alive. "I'll be singing 'For Your Entertainment' by Adam Lambert."

"Haven't heard that one," Will said, gesturing for him to continue. "Go for it, Cas."

The nickname was soothing. It felt like Dean was there with him. Castiel smiled, looking around him. There was a microphone and three guitars lined up on one side of the stage, and he went over, grabbing an electric one and slinging it over his shoulders. The weight was negligible, because he was an Angel. He dragged the microphone to the centre of the stage, where the lights shone brightest. It felt like his brothers were surrounding him, giving him their strength, just as if he were back with the Host.

He had never touched a guitar before. He carefully picked at a few of the strings, learning their notes, learning what went together. This all happened in a split second before he was ready, confident once again.

He could still see them. His sight allowed it, but it didn't matter. Castiel looked to one side, as though gesturing to someone, and mojo'd the stereo player to start the backtrack of the song. The introduction was fairly short, and Castiel bowed his head, just letting the beat start up. He moved his hand again, pushing up the base so the stage throbbed with the dark, rough beat.

It still needed a little more guitar.

He let it drop for now, grabbing the microphone with both hands, and began to sing;

'So hot, out the box, can we pick up the pace? Turn it up, heat it up – I need to be entertained.' Already they were bopping their heads along to the song. Incensed, Castiel smiled, letting his voice lower, become the growl that it usually was when he spoke. He saw a flush creep over some of the female's faces, and some of them sat up straighter, pressing their legs together. It was curiously close to Dean's reaction to the song. 'Push the limit, are you with it? Baby, don't be afraid. I'mma hurt ya real good, baby.'

He bit out the word 'hurt', seeing how Santana bit her lip, crossing her legs. Rachel was staring at him with barely disguised shock. Castiel was good. Of course he was good – he was a Seraph. They sing.

He let the music run through him – he wanted to move. He pulled the microphone closer to him, watching the faces watching him, and threw his arm out to one side, reaching out to the side of him. The base beat was thrumming in his blood, singing in his veins. He felt like he was flying, as he used to when he used to sing all the time.

'Let's go, it's my show, Baby, do what I say. Don't trip off the glitz that I'm gonna display,' he smirked, fist clenching as he brought his arm slowly back, moving his other hand down the mike, caressing it like it was a living person; 'I told ya, I'mma hold ya down until you're amazed - give it to you 'til you're screaming my name.' He growled out the last line, bringing his hand down on the guitar and starting a low whine from it, letting it sing for him – he drew his hand up the neck, pressing down on the strings to create a quick build, a higher harmony to his voice as he began the chorus;

'No escaping when I start' – A fast descent to the lower, sultry notes. – 'Once I'm in I own your heart. There's no way to ring the alarm, so hold on until it's over!'

The teenagers began to clap and whoop at him, the girls raising their hands in the air with the exception of Rachel, while the guys grinned at him, mimicked the picking on the guitar, or just stared in absolute shock. Castiel knew he didn't look like much, but it wasn't thatludicrous, was it?

'Oh,' he punched the air, 'do you know what you got into?' He pointed out to the audience. 'Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do? 'Cause it's about to get rough for you.' He smirked, cocking his head to one side, his eyes flashing up to the auditorium door.

'I'm here for your entertainment.'

Dean had heard the low music, recognizing it instantly. He couldn't believe his ears – that that vanilla ice cream, sweet-gummy centre Glee club would sing Adam Lambert? No way. Hurrying, hardly daring to think – No, it was impossible. Castiel couldn't possibly -.

"Oh, fuck."

'Oh! I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet – you thought an angel swept you off your feet.' Castiel's eyes met his and the Angel winked, grinning, his hands moving back to the guitar. He played it like a lover, drawing out low croons and high whines from the instrument that melted with the base thrum of the music, creating something much darker, much more sultry and alluring and seductive. 'Well I'm about to turn up the heat…'

Dean swallowed, biting his lip.

'…I'm here for your entertainment.'

Dean felt like his knees were going to give out on him. He scrambled to a chair, too enthralled to do anything but watch. Castiel's voice was like…was like…everything. He had the raw power and rough growl of Jared Leto, Adam Lambert's teenaged kind of lilt with a kind of combination of Brendan Urie and Alexander Gaskarth. It was liquid sex in a voice.

Castiel was going to kill him. Dean was positive of it.

Castiel smirked up at him, flashing white teeth as the music went suddenly quiet for a split second, and he started up the second verse. 'It's alright, you'll be fine, Baby, I'm in control.' Dean closed his eyes, letting Castiel's voice wash over him, combining with the altered song. Fuck, but Dean might actually just have Castiel sing to him all the damn time. Screw foreplay – this was sex. Castiel growled; 'Take the pain, take the pleasure - I'm the master of both.' It felt like he was singing to Dean directly. How did Castiel know? How could he have possibly known? 'Close your eyes, not your mind; let me into your soul. I'mma work ya 'til you're totally blown.' He purred the very last word, and it sent shivers down Dean's spine, felt like Castiel was directly behind him, warm and sexy, that filthy voice whispering in his ear. Dean bit his lip and stifled a whimper behind clenched teeth, shifting lower in his seat.

He started the chorus again, forgoing the guitar but mojoing the music so the guitar riffs continued, building up over each other in a confusing, complex mix of rhythms and thrums of music, building up to a crescendo just like the music, until it went almost completely silent.

The bridge.

God, the bridge was going to fucking kill him.

Castiel removed the microphone from its stand, stepping away from the stand. He felt like running, like jumping around and letting the music just flow through him. He fisted his hair with one hand, his shoulders hunching forward, knees bending so he was almost kneeling on the stage. The sensations built up inside of him, and continued to sing;

'Woah! Do you like what you see?' His eyes flashed up to Dean again, incensed by his mate watching him, the man's eyes so dark with desire, his heartbeat flying from watching Castiel sing, just from watching him sing, and that was so hot, so unbelievably empowering. Castiel smirked again, running his hand back through his hair, hunching forward even more. 'Woah! Let me entertain ya 'till you scream!'

He leapt to his feet, and the teenagers screamed with him, some of them getting to their feet and clapping along as he ran to the edge of the stage, continuing the chorus, and they ran forward, the girls still screaming, reaching for him, but his eyes were on Dean – all for Dean.

'…Well I'm about to turn up the heat. I'm here for your entertainment.'

He let the note ring past the music, and then moved the mike from his face, breathing hard. The house lights came up and Dean wasn't there anymore. Castiel swallowed, taking another deep breath, and looked down. The girls had settled – Rachel was still staring from her seat, wide-eyed. The guys looked equally impressed, or shocked, and Mr. Schuester whistled, getting to his feet and shaking his head.

"Castiel, welcome to Glee club," he said, grinning.

"He's better than me," Rachel hissed, playing with the heat protector on her to-go coffee cup. Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Well, almost," she amended. She wasn't willing to admit that he might be better than her – there were only equals, not superiors. Except Barbra Streisand. She sighed, cocking her head to one side. "But if we sang a duet together for national's we would be sure to win."

"Yes, well, don't get your hopes too high," Kurt said, sitting forward. Rachel frowned. "Honey, he sounds like he drives on my side of the road, if you know what I mean."

Rachel's eyes widened. "No," she replied, shaking her head. "You should have seen him with Santana. They were all over each other."

"Tree ferns would be all over Santana," Kurt replied plainly.

"No," Rachel said, shaking her head, "no, Castiel's definitely not gay."

Kurt cocked his head to one side. "Didn't he audition with an Adam Lambert song?" he asked.

Rachel bit her lip. "That doesn't prove anything. He also sings Metallica, and Bon Jovi, and Nickelback and…" Her brow furrowed. "No. He's not. And we're going to sing together and have safely ethnic, musically extraordinary children."

"I will never find it normal how you manage to plan a wedding and children just from one song," Kurt replied with a raised eyebrow, taking a sip of his chi tea latte. "But that'll be difficult when he doesn't find lady parts attractive."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "I'll prove it to you," she said, folding her arms over her chest. Kurt made a noise, pursing his lips. "I will. I'll…Come to the practice room sometime. We'll sing a duet together. You'll see the chemistry."

Kurt raised his cup. "Good luck."

Castiel found Dean in an empty classroom, the man pacing across the room in front of the desk, wiping his hand over his mouth. He stilled immediately, hearing the door open, and whirled around. On seeing Castiel there, he blew out a breath, his eyes wide and dark and Castiel smirked.

"Did you enjoy my show, Dean?" he asked, his voice rough from singing as he slowly closed the door behind him, leaning back against it. The doorknob dug into the small of his back and he held it in his hands, cushioning the metal with his fingers. His smile widened as Dean's eyes hungrily tracked over his newer, younger body. "Do you like what you see?" he whispered, mimicking the low cadence and tune of the song.

Dean took a deep breath, closing his eyes. It was obvious how hard he was fighting to keep control of himself. "You're…" He coughed, clearing his throat, and dared to open his eyes again. "You've never sung for me."

Castiel shrugged, lifting one shoulder up, and averted his gaze so he was looking at the floor, off to one side. "You never asked me to," he replied softly, and Dean swallowed. "I would sing for you always, if it would make you happy." His eyes flashed to Dean's again, soft and vulnerable.

"How did you know?" Dean asked, slowly approaching his mate, taking a deep, shaking breath when Castiel tilted his head into the warm touch of Dean's hand, resting his cheek in the man's palm. The feeling of smooth, soft skin on his hand was foreign and new to Dean – it wasn't better. It was just different. He had become used to Castiel's eternal stubble. "About the song?"

Castiel's eyes roved over Dean's face, before he smiled a little. "I heard you playing it in the car," he replied, "and it moved you. I wanted to be moved like that – I wanted to feel what you were feeling when you listened." He bit his lip, looking down, thick lashes resting gently on his cheeks. "When I used to sing with the Host, we were always moved by our song, but it was always the same song, and always the same movement. I wanted to feel…to react…the way a human would. The way you do."

Dean swallowed again. "I just…" Castiel bit his lip once more, a small blush rising on his cheeks. Dean had never seen Castiel blush before. Anything else Castiel might have said was silenced when Dean slanted his mouth over the Angel's, gentle but passionate. He trapped Castiel's lower lip between his own, dragging Castiel's mouth open before his tongue slid in. The Angel met him eagerly – it had taken Dean a long time to get Castiel used to kissing, as the Angel had thought it even more intimate than sex and was reluctant until he and Dean had actually sealed the deal for being mates for eternity, but after working at it, it quickly became one of Castiel's favorite things to do, and even after so long it left the Angel breathless and made heat shoot to his very core.

He quickly made it dirty, their tongues sliding together, Castiel sucking Dean's lower lip into his mouth as he grabbed the human's shoulders, shoving him back and away from him. Dean stumbled, eyes wide with shock and dark with lust, and Castiel smirked, following his mate until he'd backed Dean up against one of the desks that sat two students. When Dean didn't have any further back to go, his gaze trapped unblinkingly with Castiel's, he pushed himself onto the desk so he was sitting. It put his head lower than Castiel's.

The Angel smiled, tilting his head to one side, and threaded a hand through Dean's hair, holding fast when he leaned down to kiss the man again, quick and dirty, his other hand sliding down Dean's side and hooking into his thigh hard enough that the Hunter flinched. Castiel stepped closer between Dean's legs, letting his human mate's warmth surround him, so eagerly when Dean trapped Castiel's hips between his strong thighs.

Dean stifled a rough, wanton sound against Castiel's mouth when the teen slowly sank to his knees in front of the Hunter, grinning up at Dean in a way that was positively wicked. He shivered at the dark light in the Angel's eyes, the way his lips were so full and kiss-flushed, his cheeks stained a light pink, his hair falling forward in front of his eyes. Dean was suddenly struck by the fact that, although Castiel was above the legal age, his body wasn't, and anyone who walked in on them or saw them would only see the new kid blowing the new janitor and that wouldn't go over well.

Still, it was hard to care when Castiel exhaled over his cock, trapped in his grey uniform work slacks, and Dean threw his head back, gasping, spreading his legs to give Castiel all the room he wanted. The Angel nuzzled into his groin, mouthing at Dean's cock through his pants, his fingers working to undo the button and zip. Dean's hands found comfortable spots in Castiel's hair, fisting the thick black locks tightly in his warm hands and pulling, guiding the Angel and Castiel let him, moaning softly, eyelids fluttering when Dean pulled just a little too hard.

"Gently, beloved," he growled in a voice that was low enough to almost be his regular, middle-aged Castiel voice, and Dean bit his lip, stifling a low sound, his hips bucking up towards Castiel's mouth as the Angel finally succeeded in freeing his cock, taking it in hand and giving it a few cursory, loose strokes.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean growled when the Angel licked up the shaft, sucking lightly at the head, never taking his eyes off Dean. "This is so illegal," he said with a laugh.

Castiel did that one-shoulder shrug again. "Technically, no, it's not," he said, and Dean nodded, conceding the point – Castiel was a million bajillion years old. At least. It just looked like pedophilia. Any and all of Dean's arguments flew out the window when Castiel took Dean into his mouth, wrapping his lips tightly around Dean's cock, his fingers forming a tight ring at the base to hold Dean steady as he slowly sank down, swallowing all of Dean in one descent.

"Fucking…Cas!" Dean managed to stop himself blaspheming, just. He'd done his best to force himself to stop calling out for God and Jesus and stuff like that because it made Castiel uncomfortable and angry – he was still an Angel, after all. For the most part Dean succeeded and made a conscious effort not to call out God's name when he and Castiel were…doing stuff like this.

Castiel hummed, showing his appreciation for Dean's self-filtering skills, dark blue eyes flashing up, his pupils large so only a thin ring of blue surrounded them, and he began to suck in earnest, bobbing his head slowly up and down, and fell more fully onto his knees so he wasn't crouching anymore. His hands moved to Dean's thighs, keeping his hips down and allowed his head more freedom, his tongue running patterns up and down Dean's shaft, lips stretched tight around the man's cock.

Outside the classroom, the bell rang to signify the end of lunch and the beginning of the next classes. Children milled around outside and Dean was fairly certain this classroom was destined to be in use next. He froze a little, tugging on Castiel's hair. "Cas, we have to -."

The Angel growled, sucking harder, and held Dean down fast, his eyes meeting Dean's and telling the Hunter that he wasn't going anywhere until Castiel was good and done. Despite how fucking hot that was, and how Dean got all tingly when Castiel – even a twink Castiel – held him down like that so easily, he still didn't want to be booked for indecent exposure and sexual assault of a minor. No, that didn't sound like a fun afternoon at all.

"Cas, come on," Dean insisted, tugging on Castiel's hair again, just as the classroom door opened. A group of teenagers walked in, chatting to each other so they didn't see Dean and Castiel, and then they took their seats at the desks. They just walked in, and sat down. Dean watched in astonishment as they continued to talk, waiting for the teacher, not seeming to care that there was a fully grown man getting blown by the new kid on the centre front desk.

"They can't see us, Dean," Castiel rasped, his voice even throatier now from sucking Dean off, and Dean's wide eyes met his mate's. Castiel's expression was amused and mischievous – there was a gleam in his eye. "And they won't see until I'm good and done with you."

"Kinky son of a -." Dean's response was lost in a cry when Castiel took him into his mouth again, sucking him down like his life depended on it, and Dean's body locked up – he curled forward, the knowledge that they were doing something so dirtywrong, hiding in plain sight, amplifying his orgasm so it left him shaking. He hadn't come that hard in a while. Castiel moaned softly, drinking him down, tongue lapping at his cock like a kitten as he milked Dean for all of his release.

He let Dean fall from his mouth when he was done, the human bent over and panting above him, and Castiel looked up, nuzzling his way into Dean's mouth and sharing the Hunter's taste with him. Dean still wasn't really sure why he did that but Castiel always loved it when Dean tasted himself, and he loved the taste of his own come in Dean's mouth, and Dean got an orgasm out of it so he figured he couldn't complain.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Dean," Castiel growled when Dean had recovered, and Dean froze again, gasping. Jesus fuck, but Castiel was going to kill him. "In front of all these students." His eyes tracked around the room, his smirk growing. "While they're learning their rivers and the names of different countries and their capitals. Right here." He rose to his feet, graceful and smooth like a jungle cat.

Dean could only stare, wide-eyed. "Don't you have class or something?" he croaked out.

Castiel smirked, and shook his head. His eyes were very dark, and he shoved at Dean's shoulders, forcing the man on his back on the desk while the students continued with their lesson, the teacher entering and beginning, oblivious to what was going on in their classroom.

"I'm not going anywhere until I'm good and done," Castiel murmured, crawling up onto the desk and kneeling down between Dean's thighs, willing the rest of their clothes away. The wood was cold against Dean's back and Castiel was so warm between his legs – despite how weird it was, and how wrong and unbelievable kinky, Dean felt a low heat stirring in his belly, because he always did when Castiel looked at him like that, like he was going to eat him alive. Castiel leaned over him, finding his hands, lacing their fingers together, and pinning them on either side of Dean's head. "So…let me entertain you…'til you scream."

Yes. Castiel was definitely going to kill him.

Now, Castiel did more than just sing awesome songs that gave Dean boners that he then spent next class taking care of while a perfect clone of himself wandered around and maintained his fake presence in the school. No, this job actually kept him very busy. He had no idea that a new teenager in the town would be so easily welcomed.

There was one incident with Slushies, but the lids had mysteriously remained on them so that when they were thrown, they ended up creating a rather unsightly mess on the floor (which Dean and Sam would later bitch about cleaning up) and a very cold bully's arm. People tended not to Slushie the Glee club anymore. Much.

Well, not when Castiel was around, anyway.

People were always talking to him, and when they weren't talking to him they were staring at him, which Castiel thought was fine because he knew he used to stare a lot and while it made people uncomfortable, if it didn't, then he didn't mind – and he didn't mind people staring at him.

He would go to school, and explore, trying to find the source of the haunting, and then go to Glee club. Dean would always watch, although sometimes he came in at the last minute – he always wanted to be there to hear Castiel sing. It seemed like everyone wanted to hear Castiel sing. Castiel could feel their desires, their emotions, swelling in him whenever he did it – it was like he had found a new Host, here, and he kind of liked it. It was more erratic and confusing than the Host but it was still like a family, united in song as he used to be with his brothers, oh so long ago. After Glee club he would either join Dean and Sam in their nightly forays into the Hunt or, occasionally, just return to the motel room and have sex with Dean all night.

Three weeks in and there were still no leads. Despite Castiel's best efforts, he hadn't managed to get anyone in the Glee club to talk to him about the ghost. He had a feeling that it was because they were all together, if one of them spoke up the others would shoot them down. He would have to take a more personal approach, he thought. Interview them one by one without making it sound like an interview.

But we all know that this isn't the exciting part. So let's skip ahead a bit, shall we?

"Cas?" People had taken to calling him 'Cas' around the school now. It had irked him at first, but then he'd grown to accept it – besides, it was kind of nice. It made him feel safe just like when Dean called him 'Cas', it made him feel like he belonged. He turned around to look at the small brunette, Rachel. She was clutching sheet music to her chest and grinning excitedly. "I know you like Adam Lambert so I was going through a bunch of his music and I think I found the perfect song for us to sing together," she said, handing him half of the sheet music. "It's very emotional and I think the harmonies are simply amazing, which would be good with your voice and mine."

How anyone managed to speak so fast but with such perfect diction astounded Castiel, and he took the sheet music, looking it up and down. He'd never heard the song, but maybe he could convince Dean to let him listen to it so he would know it. He smiled. "That would be lovely, Rachel," he said, replacing his Math book in his locker – there was an error on page thirty with a severe typo in SohCahToa which would cause some confusion. He should really bring it up with the teacher otherwise everyone would be learning SoaChaToch.

No, he had no idea where that had come from. He suspected it was some kind of deliberate prank or inside joke.

"Great," she said, rocking up onto her toes. "Be ready to rehearse with me in the auditorium today after school." He frowned, about to tell her that he had plans – he had been intended to go to the library with Dean to look up kinds of ghosts that didn't really behave like ghosts – but she was gone, disappearing into the throng of students milling to their next class. He sighed, biting his lip.

"She wants you to what?" Dean snapped over the phone.

"Rehearse with her, this song that she wants me to sing with her." Castiel sighed, closing his eyes. "I know it's not the optimal choice, but I might be able to interview her afterwards about the ghost which could give us some leads, if nothing else." A pause. "It's just one night, Dean," he said.

"I know," Dean replied, snorting out a laugh, "I just don't…I don't like it."

Castiel paused again. "Rachel is a good soul, Dean," he said, "I'm sure her intentions are purely for the music."

Dean laughed. "Really, Cas, you're so naïve sometimes," he replied. "I bet she's just using this as an excuse to get into your pants." There, Castiel heard it. A little bit of worry, of vulnerability.

He softened, then; "Dean, I am yours," he whispered quietly, lowering his voice so that only Dean would be able to hear it over the phone. "You need not fear about that."

"You fit in really well here, Cas." Dean was not pouting, alright? He wasn't.

"I would prefer the seconds I spend with you to an eternity in this club," Castiel replied honestly, insistently. It was true – yes, he was enjoying himself, and it was nice to be around people who could be moved by such music as he was, but one word from Dean and they could finish this case without any more interaction, and Castiel would leave with no regrets.

"Eesh, Cas, alright, don't get all soppy on me," Dean snapped in reply, but his voice was happy, and it made Castiel smile. "Just don't get too scandalized, 'kay?" He chuckled.

Castiel smiled. "I promise, Dean."

"The game is set. He and I are going to be singing a duet and the chemistry will be amazing and he'll be mine." Rachel smiled, obviously pleased with herself, crossing her arms over her chest. She, Mercedes, Blaine and Kurt were gathered in the nearest café to the school during lunch break to update on the mystery of Castiel's sexual orientation.

"What song are you going to sing?"

Rachel preened. "I want to keep it a secret," she announced, sitting up straight and raising her chin. Kurt rolled his eyes and Mercedes just shook her head. "Just come to the practice room tonight and we'll sing for you and you'll see."

Blaine took a careful sip of his coffee, raising a brow at Rachel. "Alright, but make sure you don't scare him off, okay?"

"And why would I do that?" she huffed.

"Because you're crazy intense and not everyone falls in love over a song," Kurt replied quickly, placing his palms on the table and fixing his gaze on Rachel. She tilted her head at him. "Alright, we all might be an exception, but not everyone gets this worked up about songs. They're crazy if they don't, but still."

"I don't know," Mercedes said, shaking her head, an awe-filled expression coming over her face. "You should hear him sing. Or just watch him – he gets really into it. You can…well, you can feel it."

"Hmm." Kurt folded his arms over his chest. "I think this 'Cas' should sing with Blaine and I too. You know, just to make sure it's a fair competition."

"I look forward to it," Rachel said, her tone superior and confident. Kurt just smiled back.

Castiel had looked up the song on the internet – he knew the title and the artist, and was pleasantly surprised, after some rifling through his stuff that Dean never has to know about, to find that the song was on his album that he already owned. The song was powerful – listening to it, Castiel could close his eyes and feel like this person, this Adam, was speaking to him, to his friends. It was strange how some unassuming man who couldn't know the struggles that he and the Winchesters had been through could write such beautiful music that would speak perfectly to them.

He was nervous about the witnesses – two males that he hadn't known would be there, although that made him feel a little better about being 'scandalized', as Dean had said. Mercedes was also there to watch the practice and they were sitting on chairs on the tiered benches along one wall of the room. Castiel took a deep breath, feeling like thousands of eyes were on him instead of the six and then Rachel's, and the musicians'.

"He's…wow," Kurt said when Castiel and Rachel were getting ready, Rachel explaining which parts he would sing and which she would sing, and how everything would be fine, just follow her lead. Kurt looked over to Blaine who was fixing Castiel with an assessing look. "Wouldn't you agree?" he asked, a little awkwardly.

Blaine raised a brow. "It'll be interesting to see how this turns out, yes," he said, smiling over at Kurt. Kurt felt a little happy flush spread through him as it always did when Blaine smiled at him like that.

"Hit it!"

The song began, and Rachel started the first verse; 'Have you lost your way?' she began in a low, soft voice, 'Livin' in the shadow of the messes that you made?' She began by the piano, leaning back on it, spreading her arms out and feeling along the curves of it, Castiel watching her intently, waiting for his part to come in. The eyes of all participants were on him, including hers, hungry and vibrant and full of the song. 'And so it goes…Everything inside your circle starts to overflow.'

Castiel took a deep breath, taking a step forward, towards her, and started his own part. 'Take a step before you leap,' Rachel 'ooh'd underneath him, following him as he led the way around the piano, never taking his eyes off her, 'into the colors that you seek.' The music was starting to pick up, letting him lose himself in the soft, rocking rhythm of it.

'You get back what you give away, so don't look back on yesterday!' He bent over the end of the piano, smiling over at her as she grinned at him. He could see the light of the music in her eyes, making the room warm and brilliant. Her voice was beautiful – she was as gifted as any of his brothers, singing their praises to God, and she was praising in her own way, with her amazing, talented, human voice. It took Castiel's breath away.

'Wanna scream out, no more hiding.' He took the tune, she a third higher; 'Don't be afraid of what's inside - gonna tell ya you'll be alright in the aftermath!' He thought of Dean, of how broken he had been when Sam had leapt into the Pit. He thought of his own losses, ripping his brothers to pieces, fighting for what he believed, knowing that Dean would always be there, that he would always be there for Dean. 'Anytime anybody pulls you down,' the Hunter's strength had become his own, 'anytime anybody says you're not allowed, just remember you are not alone.' Never alone. 'In the aftermath.'

They were standing right in front of each other now, staring into each other's eyes. Castiel let his voice go lower, Rachel taking the higher harmony. She moved with him, his eyes sparking with emotion. Castiel wondered who she was singing about, who possessed her heart so much to give her such feeling as he had.

'You feel the weight of lies and contradictions that you live with every day…' He closed his eyes, moving away from her, and she followed him, joining him when he leaned on the piano. He felt the vibrations of the hammers hitting the strings, creating the sound, the complicated counter-melody of the instrument. She was close, her heartbeat flying, emotions running high. It was glorious, singing with her. 'It's not too late - think of what could be if you rewrite the role you play.'

All the world's a stage, we all have rolls to play. Castiel thought of Dean defying his destiny, rewriting his own role. The swell of emotion made his voice crack a little, but it was covered by Rachel's own voice, both of them rising up to the higher notes; 'Take a step before you leap into the colors that you seek. You get back what you give away, so don't look back on yesterday!'

Her eyes were closed, chin dipped to a different angle than his, shaking her head, her long hair falling around her shoulders. Castiel dipped his head, bracing himself against the piano, fingers digging into the hard wood.

'Wanna scream out, no more hiding; don't be afraid of what's inside, gonna tell ya, you'll be alright in the aftermath.' He shoved himself from the piano, running around the front of it, behind the pianist, and joined Rachel at the front. His Grace seemed to reach out from him, out anywhere, filled with the joy and the power of the song. 'Anytime anybody pulls you down, anytime anybody says you're not allowed, just remember you are not alone in the aftermath…' She belted the top note; he went low; 'In the aftermath.'

His shoulders hunched forward. 'Before you break you have to shed your armor.' His fists clenched, feeling like he was singing to Dean, though Dean couldn't hear him. He became aware of the same kind of uplifting feeling as when he used to sing to God, singing to Dean, worshiping his mate with his voice – albeit a human, pitiful echo of his True Voice, but a voice that Dean could hear, could listen to and find enjoyment in. He forwent the regular melody, letting Rachel sing it for him because it was too much – his Grace felt like it was trying to leave his body, trying to find his mate, to worship that man who inspired him so. 'Take a trip and fall into the glitter.' He choked and she frowned in concern at him, continuing because the show must always go on. 'Tell a stranger that they're beautiful…' She hesitated, meeting his eyes.

'So all you feel is…' Castiel sang the words softly, bracing himself on the piano again with one hand, regaining his strength and trying to pull his Grace back under control, 'love, love…All you feel is love, love.' The gentle harmony was beautiful.

Rachel continued on her own, while Castiel regained composure, hunched over the piano. 'Wanna scream out, no more hiding…Don't be afraid of what's inside. Wanna tell you you'll be alright…'

Castiel took this one from her, grinning in her direction, the crescendo swelling in his Grace. 'In the aftermath!'

They took turns on the final choruses, switching between who did the trills at the top note, Rachel always frowning whenever Castiel managed to match her range effortlessly – he was an Angel. He could hit notes human ears were not meant to ever hear, but it didn't matter to him. He sang for worship, not for the sake of singing, or for being the best. He had spent a huge part of eternity being part of the throng and he was okay with that – he sang so that a power greater than him would find pleasure and joy in his voice.

When the final notes died away, both he and Rachel were breathless, and Castiel closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and holding it until he felt that he could stand without the aid of the piano. His hands were shaking, all this energy and feeling built up inside of his vessel with no outlet but to keep singing, or go running, or go find Dean and complete his worship. He wanted, more than anything, for Dean to be there at that moment.

"…Wow," Kurt said, finally breaking the silence, his eyes wide and fixed on Castiel as the Angel recovered, standing up straight. Castiel cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the admiration in Kurt's eyes and the open amazement in Mercedes' and Blaine's. They all looked like they had been hit by a bolt of lightning, sitting ramrod straight and dazed.

"You see?" Rachel asked, folding her arms over her chest and smiling in triumph.

Kurt shook his head, still speechless. His hands were resting on the top knee of his crossed legs and he took a deep breath, shivering on the exhale. "Well, Castiel, right?" Castiel nodded, pressing his lips together, eyes wide and guileless. "I think you are going to need to sing with Blaine and me too. Seems unfair that Rachel should get you all to herself."

Castiel's brow furrowed slightly, unsure as to what that meant, but he nodded because any opportunity to sing was fun, was enjoyable. He would just have to make sure that Dean was there afterwards, or during – it didn't even matter.

"Sounds like fun," he replied after a moment, earning a pleased little wiggle from Kurt and a smile from Blaine, and a small, almost not-there huff from Rachel. He wasn't sure what he had done to make her upset but it didn't really matter to him, so he let it drop. He straightened up and walked away from the piano, towards the group of teenagers and took a seat. Rachel joined them.

"So where did you learn? You had to have taken lessons and stuff like that," Blaine said, leaning forward, propping his elbows on his knees.

Castiel shrugged. "My family have always sung," he replied honestly, sure to keep as close to the truth as possible without hinting at his otherworldly origin. "My father encouraged me to sing whenever possible, and I have never found instruments particularly difficult to learn. I suppose my family was just musically blessed."

"So…You've had no training," Kurt said disbelievingly, "at all?"

Castiel blinked. "I'm not deceiving you," he said slowly. He frowned; the air seemed to be getting very cold all of a sudden. He would have cast it off as a sudden draft but he knew better than that, and he looked around. "Do you feel that?" he asked the other teenagers, curious if they would.

"Feel what?" Blaine asked at the same time Rachel nodded solemnly.

"It's just a draft," Kurt said, shrugging it off. Castiel shook his head, biting his lower lip.

"It's like those ghost stories," Mercedes said with a shiver, hugging herself tightly, and Castiel nodded solemnly. "It's here."

"You're not superstitious, are you?" Kurt asked with a little bit of derision in his tone.

"I would think twice before judging, boy," Castiel snapped before he could stop himself, rising to his feet. There! At the door. There were eyes there, definitely. "Stay," he muttered, remembering Dean teaching him to make sure the civilians were safe, and he was sure that the eyes weren't on any of them, and then he ran out of the room, almost too fast to be human but he remembered himself at the last minute. He ran out into the corridor, following the soft sound of a soul sliding away. The air was still bitterly cold – the ghost was still here. He reached into his pocket and took out his phone, dialing Dean's number.

"Cas?" Dean asked, answering on the second ring, sounding concerned. "You okay?"

"It's here," Castiel whispered, pressing his back against a locker, keeping his eyes constantly moving, but slowly, looking for the ghost to manifest itself again. "I can feel it, but it has not manifested. It's still here but not visible, not even to me."

"Just keep calm, man," Dean said. "I'll be there in no time."

"Cas?" Rachel's voice. Damn her. Castiel turned around in time for Rachel to come out of the practice room, looking around for him, and immediately the ghost materialized behind her, heading straight for her.

Without thinking, Castiel ran forward, knocking her out of the way and slashing through the ghost. A human wouldn't have done anything, but he was not a human. The apparition vanished, water condensing on Castiel's palm as he slashed his hand through the cold air, and he grabbed Rachel, hauling her back into the practice room.

"What part of 'stay' did you not understand?" he snapped, annoyed that she hadn't obeyed him, and Rachel just shook her head, stuttering, eyes wide. "Did you see it?" he asked, voice softer.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving, and nodded. She seemed like she was going into shock.

"Cas? Cas! Answer, damn it!" Castiel jolted, realizing that he hadn't actually hung up on Dean, and placed his phone back against his ear. "Cas? You there?" Dean's frantic voice came from the other end.

"Dean. I'm fine, I'm sorry for worrying you," Castiel replied, and missed the triumphant look Kurt and Blaine shared between themselves.

"What did you see?"

"It was…what we thought it was," Castiel said, before hesitating, realizing that he had an audience. This was not a conversation to be having in front of the teenagers. "I banished it for now, but I don't believe it is a true spirit. I think it is a projection. Nothing else would have hidden from me so well." He was uncomfortable talking about these things in front of the teenaged civilians, but they seemed too busy fawning over the shocked and terrified Rachel, so he was relatively safe – none of them were paying attention to him. "I will arrive shortly, after I make sure Rachel's okay."

"Did she get attacked?" Dean asked, immediately switching into a professional tone; assess damage, calm the ignorant victims, move on. Castiel nodded, realized Dean couldn't see him, and then voiced the affirmative. "Alright. Take care of her and then get back here. Something about this isn't sitting right."

Castiel agreed, and hung up, going over to Rachel and wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a move he had seen Sam do many times, trying to copy it as best he could although he didn't usually like being so close to a person unless it was Dean. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"What was that thing?" Rachel demanded, looking to him with wide, innocent eyes.

Castiel swallowed. "I don't know," he replied, and winced at the lie.

"It was that ghost thing, wasn't it?" Mercedes asked, and Castiel nodded, thought it was strange – she had struck him as a firm believer in the logical and rational, not the supernatural. "I've been seeing it around but I had thought it was just my imagination."

"Have you ever seen it up close?" Castiel asked eagerly, leaning forward. Mercedes shook her head, her tight curls bouncing around her face.

"You don't seriously believe in that kind of thing, do you?" Kurt asked, clearly showing his own opinion on the matter.

"Look, Kurt, I get that you're not religious, but I am, and there are such things as spirits who haven't managed to get onto the next life," Mercedes replied, raising her finger to silence the other teen before he could protest. "And you can't hate on us for believin' in stuff you don't, or I will come atchu and you will regret it."

Kurt held up his hands in surrender, shaking his head. "Do you believe in ghosts, Cas?" Rachel asked softly.

Castiel smirked a little. "More than that," he replied enigmatically, and then rose to his feet. "I have to go – I'm late to meet my," he paused on the word 'mate', sure that it wouldn't go over well with humans, "roommate." What the hell, right? "He tends to get worried when I'm gone for too long."

"He?" Blaine asked.

Castiel frowned, nodding. "Yes."

"Cas…" Mercedes hesitated, shaking her head and shrugging. "Are you gay?"

Castiel blinked, and thought about it. "I…" He wasn't actually sure how a genderless Angel who technically was attracted to the soul, not the pretty package it was presented in, classified into the bi-gay-straight spectrum. "Would it matter if I was or wasn't?" he asked instead, confused as to why they should care anyway.

"It's just…we can't decide," Kurt finally said, shaking his head. "The girls think one thing, Blaine and I think the other." He shrugged again. "So…what are you?"

Castiel pressed his lips together, and cocked his head to one side. He narrowed his eyes, thinking about his response, and then it dawned on him. "Oh," he said, nodding his head in understanding. "You only ask because one of you finds me attractive." It wasn't said proudly, or even like a boast – it was a realization of fact. "I can only assume that, because you two," he pointed to Blaine and Kurt, "are in a relationship already, it must be one of the girls." He turned to Rachel and Mercedes. Rachel was blushing and averting her eyes, which gave her away, but he didn't call her out on it. "Ladies," he said, spreading his arms out wide, "I am in a committed relationship already, I'm afraid. And you are both lovely and beautiful and have kind souls, but you are not my type. I'm sorry."

Later on, Castiel sang 'Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy' with Kurt and Blaine. The debate over which way he swung was still red-hot.

"Castiel Novak." The autumn-leaf-colored afro preceded the gangly, awkward reporter and blogger, Jacob Ben Israel. Castiel had never exchanged more than a few words with the teen, because Jacob made him feel very awkward and he constantly reeked of pheromones. It reminded Castiel of the den of iniquity, and not in the good way.

A tape recorder was thrust into his face. "The school's buzzing with your sudden and extreme rise in popularity, despite your associations in the Glee club. How do you respond?" The teen smiled awkwardly.

He was one of those kinds of people who it was painful to be around, despite his best intentions. "Um," Castiel began, forcing a smile back which he was sure looked just as painful as Jacob's, "it's new, very different from Boston, but I like it here." There. Positive and uncontroversial, and honest.

"And how do you respond to the rumor circulating that you followed a janitor into a classroom and weren't seen for the rest of the day?" Jacob pressed, and Castiel blinked.

"What time of which day?" he asked, watching Jacob's mouth twitch, seeing that Castiel hadn't walked into his trap.

"Are you denying the rumors?"

"I'm sure people see a lot of things here," Castiel said smoothly, gaining more confidence now. He looked around, hoping for maybe an exit from this conversation, and it was the strangest thing – it was only when he saw Jacob out of the corner of his eye that he realized. "I…I have to go," he said, walking away and fishing his phone out of his jeans. "Dean, I've found the creature behind the hauntings. The most unlikely male." He looked over his shoulder at Jacob, who was furiously scribbling away at a tiny, dog-eared notebook. "A Jacob Ben Israel."

Dean snorted. "Jewish?"

"…Possibly," Castiel replied, frowning. "Does it matter?"

"Do Jews believe in ghosts?"

"I…don't…think so," Castiel said.

"Then he probably has no idea what he's doing. Meet me at the Impala outside – I wanna wrap this up quickly."

Turns out the Jacob kid was even more perverted than Castiel got from his scent and general soul aura. The boy seemed to have this obsession with Rachel Berry, but not just Rachel – apparently he didn't mind who it was, as long as it had a nice mouth and a good voice. Castiel tried not to think about if Jacob would have appeared if he had been singing alone.

He had found some old sketchy book in the library that taught about Astral Projection, so that he stalked the members of the Glee club and could jack off, unseen, in ghost form while watching them sing, or dance, or just generally breathe.

"I feel like I need a shower after that case," Dean grumped, after giving Jacob a friendly little note that what he was doing was bad and if he kept doing it then Dean was going to shove the business end of his six-shooter into his ribs and play Russian Roulette, his style. An empty threat but Jacob didn't need to know that.

"I think that male was very close to urinating when you started talking about castration," Castiel replied mildly, earning another low shudder from Dean.

He closed his eyes, swallowing to keep himself from throwing up. "Gross," he muttered, shaking his head. "Alright, so I'll call Sam, tell him we've wrapped it up and we'll be on our way, sound good?" Castiel didn't answer. "Cas?"

"I…" The Angel swallowed, looking out towards the front doors of the high school. It was silly, but he would miss this place – a place where he could sing like he was in the Host once more. Despite Dean's positive reaction to it, he didn't think he could do it without their strengths and spirits lifting him up.

Dean followed his gaze. "Do you want to stay?" he asked, tone flat and guarded.

Castiel hesitated. "No," he said after a moment, looking back towards his mate with a soft smile. "But it was novel," he continued, looking back towards the school. "I…This week's assignment was to pick an anthem – something that over came more than just the person singing it. And…" He paused, blushing slightly. "I had had some trouble understanding…"

"Mr. Schuester?"

"Cas, come on, you don't need to use my full name all the time," the teacher replied with a grin, and Castiel shrugged with one shoulder, smiling awkwardly and looking down. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm having…a little trouble understanding the assignment this week," Castiel confessed, his brow furrowing, and he paused, waiting for the rest of the kids to filter out of the room, leaving him alone with the teacher. He cocked his head to one side, staring at a small nick in one of the legs of the piano as he talked. "I don't…I don't think I get it – a song that can move someone more than another one."

"Well," the teacher said with a small laugh, "I had thought this would be something you'd be really good at – your songs always seem to move you."

Castiel smiled a little. "That's because I'm singing for someone," he whispered, thinking of Dean, of how every song he's sung for the club, or picked to do, has spoken on some level of his relationship with Dean or how the Hunter inspires or speaks to him, touches or loves him. Dean is in the centre of his song, of his voice. He is Castiel's new direction of worship.

The teacher cocked his head to one side, smiling. "This person must be very special to make you sing like that," he said gently, and Castiel nodded, biting his lip. "This person, does he or she inspire you, make you just want to shout exactly what you're feeling, in your songs?"

Castiel nodded again, eyes wide.

"Then find the song," Mr. Schuester said, "that sums this person up. Everything about them. That will be your anthem."

"…And, yesterday, I think I found the perfect one," Castiel finished his story with a soft sigh, still not looking at Dean. "And I…I'd like for you to be there to hear me sing it," he added with another light blush, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. Dean had never seen Castiel fidget so much before – it was clear this meant a lot to him; enough to make him nervous.

"Over my time in this club, I've come to realize something," Castiel continued when Dean was silent, unable to speak, his mouth gone dry, and the Angel finally turned to look at Dean, an unnamable emotion flashing in his dark, old eyes in his young face. "This club is like the Host to me, Dean – their voices, and mine, are all for something. One movement, one song. One erratic, emotional thing that I have never felt before, and when I sing in this human body, I sing for you. Even when you're not there to hear it, I do it because it brings you joy and pleasure when you're there. And it's like…it's like I'm back in Heaven again, Dean, and, just one more time, I want to take you there with me. I want you to feel as I feel when I'm…" He choked, pressing a hand against his chest and his other over Dean's thigh. "Please. Just until the end of the week. Then we can leave."

"Okay, Cas," Dean whispered without hesitation, overwhelmed by the emotion in Castiel's eyes. And the Angel's smile made a few more days in this awkward place worth it. Castiel threw himself across the small space of the car, cupping Dean's face and kissing him, deep and passionate. Dean laughed against Castiel's lips, forcing the Angel away so he could breathe. "I bet this will be one hell of a song."

Castiel's eyes flashed to his, serious and dark. "It will be," he vowed, brushing one hand down the side of Dean's face, "because it is for you."

Friday afternoon found Castiel in the auditorium, on stage, ready to perform his anthem. Finn was on drums, Puck on the guitar and ready to give back-up vocals to some of the lower harmonies. Dean was in the furthest back row, away from the attention of the other students and the teacher. Castiel's eyes found his and Dean gave an encouraging smile, but his heartbeat was flying. He was nervous and full of anticipation.

Castiel could relate.

He took a deep breath, calming himself down, and nodded to his false audience. "Alright, I've chosen this song," he began, forcing himself through the trite and unnecessary introduction, "because it is the perfect song. It's perfect for someone who inspires me every minute of every day, who has brought me to hell and back, fought for people who did not know them, and has lost everything and still kept on fighting. I admire them, and I love them more than I could imagine loving anything else." His eyes flashed back up to Dean's, who was still, holding his breath for the beginning of Castiel's song.

Whether the false audience thought Castiel was singing for his fake father, fighting off in the war, or some idol who they'd never asked about, or the nameless lover that none of them knew, Castiel didn't know, nor did he care. This wasn't for them.

The Angel smiled, nodding again, and gestured for Puck to begin. His fingers lightly stroked over his own guitar as Finn tapped the cymbals, then started the drums. His cue.

Castiel bowed his head, gripping the microphone with both hands, and closed his eyes. The song started low, rough and emotional; 'Two packs of cigarettes a day…The strongest whiskey Kentucky can make.' He opened his eyes, letting the memories of Dean wash over him; drinking away his sorrows – almost killing himself from the pain when Sam had dropped into the Pit, or when his father had died, or when he had been resurrected from Hell, full of memories and emotions that he couldn't handle. For almost a month after joining Lisa Dean was never without a bottle in his hand. He remembered what could have been, of all the times Dean could have lost himself to alcohol and yet hadn't; had pushed himself back from the brink, from impossible odds. 'That's a recipe to put a vagabond on his hands and knees.' He shook his head, closing his eyes again, the pain of watching Dean suffer, of being unable or unwilling to help – the year of Sam begging Castiel to let Dean be while he lived a false life with Lisa… 'I watched it all up close, I knew him more than most, I saw a side of him he never showed,' - the years in Hell, that no one could know about but him and Dean, was their little secret, only dragged out in the darkest moments of their times together – 'Full of sympathy for a world that wouldn't let him be.'

The guitar threw him out of his thrall, made his eyes flare open with the shock of it, and he gasped. His hands were shaking, holding the microphone, his Grace swelling inside of him. 'That's the man he was,' he bit out, remembering the anger he had felt when his brethren had tried to force Dean's 'Yes' through dirty, underhanded means. 'Have you heard enough?'

Their scorn when he, too, had fallen.

'What a shame, what a shame, to judge a life that you can't change.' He punched the air, snarling the words into the mike, his eyes flashing up to lock with Dean's shocked, wide ones. The man was staring, open-mouthed, his body rigid as though in a trance, gaze focused and unblinking, it made Castiel flush hot. 'The choir sings, the church bells ring,' – he remembered his outrage – 'so won't you give this man his wings?'

Dean swallowed at that line, his hands clenching tightly over his thighs, his body trembling with the raw power of Castiel's voice, so close to letting his True Voice out, glowing with Grace, his wings itching to burst out of his vessel – he held them all in check and, instead, poured out his power and emotion through his song, trembling and making those who listened tremble in return.

'What a shame to have to beg you to see we're not all the same.' He threw himself away from the mike, dipping his head in a nod, catching his breath, and lowered his voice again, forcing himself to retain a semblance of calm. 'What a shame.'

He closed his eyes again, taking up his guitar, picking out the complicated counter-melody that had come to him in every kiss, every touch, Dean's own melody threaded throughout the song – highs and lows and slides into descent with hard climbs back up to balance. It was everything the false audience could never understand but he felt their hearts and souls swell in response to the song.

'There's a hard life for every silver spoon; there's a touch of grey for every shade of blue.' He took a deep breath, looking up at Dean again, singing back into the microphone and able to feel the plastic criss-cross against his teeth and lips. His voice turned bitter, understanding like Dean's had been when speaking of God. 'That's the way that I see life - if there was nothing wrong, then there'd be nothing right.'

Castiel shook his head again, fighting back anger in his voice. 'And for this working man they say could barely stand…there's gotta be a better place to land…Some kind of remedy for a world that wouldn't let him be.'

He wrung a whine out of the guitar. 'That's the man he was. Have you heard enough?'

It was like he was justifying his decisions to his brothers, his new Host – they had judged him, cast him down for loving and following a human man with faults and failures, for claiming him and then not being arrogant or prideful enough to stake that claim, and instead pine and watch from afar.

Castiel had lost everything for Dean's free will. This song was as much for him as it was for Dean.

The Hunter was shaking from the force of the song, his soul tainted with fear and love, complete adoration, joy in Castiel's song, in his voice, and the soul shivered when Castiel finally loosed some of his Grace, wrapping around the beautiful, glowing pool of light in Dean's body, caressing it and soothing it from afar while he shook from the desire to get closer.

Dean's head lolled back, his eyes closed, and he bit his lip to try and keep quiet. His hands clenched in his legs, trying to force himself to stay still, but he couldn't – slowly, like a fish on a line, Dean rose to his feet, drawn towards Castiel as surely as a gravitational pull.

Castiel watched on as he began the bridge, voice growing softer but no less powerful, carrying, clear and burning hot with emotion – desire, seeing Dean there, to worship, to praise, to fall on his knees and just have Dean there, loving him, and being with him.

'God forgive the hands that laid you down,' he whispered, drawing Dean's attention with the words, and Dean opened his eyes, descending the stairs agonizingly slowly. 'They never knew how much a broken heart could make a sound and change the seasons…Now the leaves are falling faster.' Puck joined in on a lower harmony, the music slowly dying out. 'Happily ever after.'

Castiel took a deep breath, feeling his Grace swell again. 'You gave me hope through your endeavors.' Dean froze, watching him. 'And now you will live forever.' He belted out the top note, letting it ring for as long as Dean's breath was held, and then brought his hand down, wrenching the next chord from the guitar, and a key change, the last chorus powerful and completely, utterly broken.

'What a shame, what a shame, to judge a life that you can't change. The choir sings, the church bells ring, so won't you give this man his wings?' Dean, Dean, always for Dean. 'What a shame to have to beg you to see we're not all the same…'

The final notes began to ring out. ''Cause we're not all the same…'

Castiel choked, unable to continue, his eyes riveted on Dean as the final chords rang out and died, and he shoved the guitar strap over his head, the weight suddenly so heavy, so much. He was shaking, Dean's eyes on him, disbelieving, overwhelmed.

"Wow, Castiel, that was amazing!" The teacher's voice was background, like hearing it through a tunnel. Castiel couldn't concentrate on it. Without thinking, he ran off the stage, towards Dean, needing to feel his mate's presence, hold Dean in his arms and complete his worship.

They had had the Liturgy of the Word, now it was time for the Eucharist.

"And the word was made flesh," Castiel whispered, before he reached Dean and abruptly stopped. The man stared at him, wide-eyed and breathless with anticipation, and Castiel slid forward, so slowly, and slanted their lips together. Dean gasped into it, feeling the white-hot surge of Castiel's Grace flowing into him, unstoppable and brilliant like a firework, and he moaned softly against Castiel's lips, eagerly opening to the Angel, as he fisted his hands in Castiel's shirt.

The Angel pulled Dean closer to him, nuzzling into the dip between Dean's cheek and his nose, licking along his mouth, down his neck and jaw. He was muttering something very softly and very quickly, and Dean recognized a few words from Enochian chants, and Dean shivered at just how hot that was, that Dean had Castiel essentially speaking in tongues.

His eyes flashed to the group of wide-eyed teens, watching them. "What do they see?" he asked.

Castiel shrugged. "It is not of import," he growled, eyes flashing darkly like they did whenever Dean was about to get it and get it good, and the Hunter shuddered again, tilting his head to Castiel's insistent press of lips and nose and jaw. "Let me take you home," he rasped into Dean's ear, and the Hunter gasped, and nodded.

Later, some of the Glee club would swear up and down that Castiel had been making out with a blond, super-model-esque girl with legs and an ass to die for, breasts just the right size for cupping and squeezing, and hair that fell in long ringlets around her face. Others would bet their lives on the fact that Castiel had been making out with some hot twink kind of guy who looked like he'd just stepped right off a porno.

Only two people knew the truth. That was Castiel and Dean, and they weren't sayin' nothin'. The mystery of Blue-eyes' orientation was still unsolved due to conflicting witness reports.

Castiel Novak disappeared three days later, with only the vague memory of him ever being there. Sometimes, a Glee kid would hear an Adam Lambert song, or a particularly emotive melody would come on the radio, and they would smile with tears in their eyes and not really know why.

Jacob Israel never dabbled in the supernatural again, and went back to being the weird, painful presence he always was, but he happily continued to whack off in front of his computer that had a feed to a secret camera that he had hidden in the girls' bathroom. Nothing good yet, but you never know…

But we know you don't really mind that much what happened to the Glee club. It's the sex you want, right? Of course. Well, we won't keep you waiting…

"Cas -." Dean's question – sentence? – whatever the hell he was going to say, was cut off as Castiel slammed him back against the wall. The wall of a thankfully empty motel room, covered in lime green wallpaper (someone had a sense of humor) with one king-sized bed and a battered old twelve-inch TV sitting atop a rather sorry looking desk. All this Dean noticed in an instant, before Castiel's lips were on his, distracting him very completely.

He mewled, wrapping his legs around Castiel's slender hips, because fuck yes. He snarled when Castiel bit down on his lower lip, forcing Dean's lips apart to get at the sweet taste of his mouth. Castiel's hands were gripping bruises at his thighs and ass, holding him up and shoving him close against Castiel's hips so that the two of them had a source of friction to sate the building fire of need, sending shivers through both of them at every lightning-strike point of contact.

Dean made another embarrassing, desperate sound, fisting his hands in Castiel's thick, soft hair and throwing himself into the kiss, his legs clutching Castiel's body tightly, sucking Castiel's lip into his mouth and biting down, earning a low snarl from the Angel.

Castiel shoved at Dean's thighs, forcing the Hunter to stand on wobbly legs, and then there was a split second of nothingness, both of them just staring at each other, panting hard, flushed and burning hot from desire. Then Castiel fell to his knees in front of Dean, breathing hard against Dean's shirt, one hand fisted in the soft, loose fabric, the other running up the human's thigh, keeping him upright and spreading his legs at the same time.

"Cas," Dean gasped out, fisting his hands in his mate's hair, his head thunking back against the wall as he felt Castiel's hot touch burn through his jeans, the Angel's teeth bared against his stomach when Castiel lifted his shirt to bare skin, Castiel's warm breath skating along the fine sprinkling of hairs leading down and disappearing into Dean's clothes. "Cas."

"If I could," the Angel whispered, flashing dark, wondering blue eyes up at Dean, full of awe and love and unfathomable devotion, "I would spend all my days here, on my knees in worship to you, Dean Winchester."

The Hunter made a half-sound between a moan and gasp, his eyes flashing open and looking down at the Angel. He combed his hands through Castiel's thick, spiky hair, making it look even more ruffled and disheveled than usual. "Isn't that kind of blasphemous?" he asked, half-joking, unable to help himself.

"Then may God strike me down," Castiel whispered solemnly, pressing his cheek against Dean's stomach, his hand leaving Dean's shirt to quickly and deftly undo the fastening and zip of his jeans, pulling the clothes off with almost human impatience. "But I see such beauty, such awe-inspiring spirit in you, Dean, my beloved, my mate, and sometimes…" He paused, taking a deep breath, sitting back on his haunches and yanking Dean down to him. Startled, the human could only fall, somehow managing to straddle Castiel's lap while the Angel held him as though he weighed nothing. One of Castiel's hands went under Dean, cupping his ass, holding him still, the other petting through his hair, stroking down the side of his face, the Angel's expression solemn and serious and less than an inch away. "Sometimes, it is all I can do not to fall to my knees and sing for you."

A hot flash of desire shot down Dean's spine and he shuddered, throwing himself at Castiel so they went sprawling, Dean on top of the Angel, hands in his hair, lips and teeth clashing and meeting and complementing and completing each other. Quickly, not missing a beat, Castiel rolled them over, holding Dean close as they went until he fell easily between the Hunter's spread legs. Dean's skin felt like it was on fire, flushing hot, Castiel's Grace and the song still flowing through the both of them, to the rhythm of the drums and the swing of the guitar. Dean swore he could still hear it playing when Castiel leaned down and kissed him.

His song. Their song.

Castiel made a soft noise of impatience, and suddenly Dean could only feel naked skin against naked skin. He whined desperately, arching up against Castiel, his blood thrumming with the time of a drum, his hands shaking, body trembling and tense as he clung to the Angel. Even the small amount of space that existed between them was too much – air shouldn't fit. They didn't need it.

Castiel licked into Dean's mouth once more, shifting a little, one hand thrust out to brace himself against the scratchy motel carpet that Dean just had enough presence of mind to think would give him a very annoying carpet burn later (only for a shirt to mysteriously materialize underneath him, thank you Angels with their mind-reading powers) before all cognitive thought was lost at the first press of a slick finger against his entrance, Castiel biting his lower lip, brow furrowed in concentration as he pushed the finger in, trying to crook it just right to hit Dean's prostate.

Dean forced himself to relax (despite how many times he and Cas went at it like rabbits, the first press was always a little more burn than he liked) and spread his legs a little wider, rocking his hips to try and get Castiel's touch that little bit deeper…almost –.

He stifled a half-annoyed sound against Castiel's jaw, earning a low, amused chuckle from the Angel, who silenced anything Dean might have said with his own mouth. Dean's eyes closed, his hands cupping Castiel's face, keeping him close while the Angel gently eased him open with his first finger, then two, then three – he found Dean's prostate, then, pressing against it almost too hard, earning a half-choked groan from the human, which of course made Castiel laugh again.

Impatient, Dean growled; "Come on, Angel, fuck me already," and, of course, Castiel was only too happy to oblige, pulling his fingers out, lining himself up and pushing in, in one smooth thrust. Dean sucked in a breath, keeping perfectly still until Castiel was fully hilted, and he threw his head back when Castiel's cock struck his prostate, sending white fireworks off behind his eyes.

"Fucking hell, Cas," Dean moaned; it felt so good it was almost painful, and Dean grit his teeth, wrapping his arms and legs around the Angel, pulling him in closer. "Fuck, you need to move."

Castiel nodded, bowing his head so his forehead rested on Dean's collarbone, and he rolled his hips, rocking in a little deeper before pulling out, almost completely leaving Dean, before sliding back in. It was slick and so hot and Dean was so tight around him, the Angel could barely keep a hold of himself. Nonsense, most of it not even in English or any human language, spilled out of his mouth as he built up a rhythm inside of his mate, his Grace pulsing with every clench of Dean's inner muscles around him, pressing against the layers of his vessel, trying to touch Dean in an even more intimate way.

Dean bit his lip, his eyes wide and fixed on Castiel – the Angel was glowing, his skin bright with an ethereal kind of light, lit from within. His eyes were closed but Dean got the feeling that, if they were open, they would be shining with Grace. The Hunter stroked his hands through Castiel's hair, closing his eyes also, letting himself just feel his mate, feel Castiel's warmth on top of him and between his legs, feel the strong thrusts that felt like they went through his entire body – he listened to the low, rhythmic verse of Castiel's speech, whatever the hell he was saying; he heard the soft rustling of invisible feathers, bristled with arousal.

He drew Castiel up, slanting his lips over the Angel's to silence the chanting. "I love you," he whispered between their kiss, when he had to breathe and Castiel allowed him to refill his burning lungs. That did it for the Angel – Castiel groaned, sounding pained, his entire body stilling as he curled over Dean, clutching at the Hunter as he came, muffled his cries of pleasure against Dean's neck.

When he was done, he blinked open wondering, innocent eyes, and Dean opened his to find that Castiel had lifted the veil of youth from his vessel, taking Jimmy's original age again, and he quirked a small smile. Dean laughed. "Welcome back, Cas."

The Angel smiled, pressing another chaste kiss to Dean's lips, and then slid down, lowering his mouth to Dean's own unsatisfied need, and continued in a whole new stage of his worship, until the motel room was filled with nothing but the cries of two people in their praise.